


So Close

by Path



Category: Exalted
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-14
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Path/pseuds/Path
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pale Mercy only has once chance a year to see her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Close

The lights are stunning, the people distracting, their clothes fabulous and the colours vibrant beyond imagining, but the Carnival of Meeting is not what takes Pale Mercy’s breath away.

He drifted through the streets of Yu-Shan. Group after group recognized and called to him- after his work with Swan Dragon on Amoth’s trial, he was somewhat famous (or notorious, perhaps, it was much the same) in the godly city. But though Mercy smiled to each and wished them a most auspicious new year, he spared no more than a few minutes for each, and counted seconds in his head as he exchanged pleasantries. It was not yet the tenth hour, so he would have time for perhaps six more such distractions...

Time was unusual here, with five days feeling like they compressed into a single glorious night. But after a few such Calibrations, he began to catch the feel of it, and became a little adept at telling time even as it bent around him. He needed to hurry, though; he was still a block away from his goal, and one might spend the entire five days of the Carnival on a single street and not see it all.

He raced there, trying not to look as if he was racing. He had to be careful- the streets were full, and a single misstep and trip into the wrong person might smear his reputation entirely. It was very difficult to keep one’s reputation sterling in Yu-Shan. Besides, even if the possibility of a rude mistake didn’t loom, the shapes of the creatures, gods, elementals, and unidentifiable others, varied greatly. Mercy had spent too much time making sure he looked perfect tonight to ruin it by snagging his coat on someone’s stiff branching coral hair or porcupine spikes.

Finally, the dance area blossomed into view, a shimmering bubble held in midair. Inside, the bizarre beings of the Carnival whirled, floating as they danced. Mercy’s heart was racing, surveying the patterns of staircases and balconies surrounding the bubble, scanning the brilliant glows and riotous colours of the crowd for one figure.

And yes- there she was. It was then his heart caught in his chest, and he turned, taking a second to restrain his schoolboy enthusiasm, before he began climbing the stairs to her.

She stood, hands gently clasped before her, watching the dancers calmly. One might find her icy to remain impassive in the face of the greatest of festivals, but Mercy knew better. Her violet hair was spun in an elaborate pattern , tiny wisps falling to brush her shoulders. A formal kimono clung to her, very high at the neck and in perfect array, a pale blue-grey that, rather than appearing drab among the brilliance, gave her a look of calm stability.

Mercy stepped behind her, judging the proper two steps back and one to the side from reaching her. “Am I late?” he asked, keeping his breathlessness from his voice.

She turned. Her features, solemn and unmoved a moment ago, turned to a smile as her grey eyes widen. She lowered her head for a moment and schooled herself, but the smile did not leave her face entirely. “Perhaps by a minute or two,” she acknowledged. Her voice is soft, as he remembered it, but had gathered some other character to it. He wondered what had happened to make it so. “I could have waited a little longer, though, I think.”

He beamed. “I am so glad you did.” He was drinking her in, trying to catch every small gesture. When she lowered her eyes so charmingly, a wisp of hair drifted by one temple. Her earrings chimed like little bells. There was a new sadness to her eyes, but it was not overwhelming. And she was happy to see him. He could hear, below her measured words, the beautiful joy she had at his presence.

Her eyes met his. She knew he was listening, sifting her subtext, and she was allowing him to. He took it as an honour, and extended a hand. “It has been too long, Lady Danae. May I have this dance?”

She hesitated a second. “I cannot stay long. My guardians are in the city as well tonight.”

“As long as you wish, Lady, and not longer,” he vowed instantly.

Another second passed, before she placed her hand in his, and he led her to the edge of the step.

“I am so glad you came,” she says, as they step into nothingness for an instant. His heart leaps, and then his body too is weightless. He cradles one hand carefully in his, and places his other at her back, just brushing the curve of her waist. She places her hand on his shoulder.

There is a moment. The dancers freeze around them, drifting stationary and unmoving an instant, as he looks down into grey eyes and sees a wealth of unspoken emotion welled behind them. He cannot read her, in that instant, too caught in beauty and ritual and fleeting faint love. Some shadow falls over her face, and he knows that this must have been a very hard year for her indeed. If only-

“Please,” she says.

He surges forward and she falls back, and the dancers swirl into motion as the music erupts around them. Does the world truly move around them in these instants, he wonders? But there is no more time for thought, too busy as he is anticipating her every action and making sure his own are the perfection she requires. She twirls in his arm as he pulls her back in, their steps matched. Mercy knows of no other with his exact talents, but no matter the field, Danae is his equal.

He faintly wishes he could find out what else she could match him at.

It cannot last forever. It never does. Finally, the music dies, and Danae gently releases herself from his clasp. The beings surrounding them stopped dancing at some point; Mercy did not notice. They applaud, as they do every year, and Mercy leads his partner back to the steps.

He gives a gentle squeeze to her hand, and she raises her eyes to him.

“Thank you for coming,” he says. She can read him as easily as he does her. He lets her take the full value of his words, knowing no other could catch as much as she does in him.

Her eyes close. There is some pain, regret, a little whimsy and wishing. “I would not miss it. I will look forward to next year, Pale Mercy.”

“And I, Lady,” he says. They step back into the world. Yu-Shan in its festival glory breaks back into feverish noise.

She turns from him, gently taking her hand from his, and is walking into the crowd. A few steps in, he sees her blue-haired bodyguard fall into step beside her, shooting a look over his shoulder at Mercy.

One day, he thinks, he will stop her. He will catch her hand and say, “Don’t go back. Come with me.”

But it is not this year.

Around him, the stage is being set for the great competition of the night, the trial between the Sun Himself and the Maiden of Endings, the great event that everyone waits for.

But Pale Mercy edges through the crowd, and thinks to himself that the greatest moment of the year has already come and gone.

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for a Calibration-themed contest. I got second place and a custom forum title woo :P You should probably listen to "So Close" from Enchanted while you read this.  
> Pale Mercy is Bystanderman's Eclipse and Danae of Linowan is mine.


End file.
